Chapter Four

An hour later, Major Lorne took a moment to sit just a little to the side of the DHD. It hadn't been his first rest stop, either. On two other occasions he'd found himself fighting back darkness creeping around the edges of his vision. Thankfully the worst of his shakes had stopped. Now he just needed to collect himself enough not to draw undue attention as he returned to Atlantis. The last thing he wanted at this point was for his team to know what had actually happened. Colonel Sheppard was going to have to know, otherwise he wouldn't be able to properly protect anyone going there to negotiate trade. But anyone else…

Shaking off his blurring thoughts, Lorne stood up. Feeling a bit more collected, he rubbed a hand down the back of his pants, glad to feel dry cloth. So far so good. As far as he could tell, his shirt had stuck to the open wounds and his jacket had absorbed the oozing blood. With his black tac vest over that, he should be able to make it to the infirmary unnoticed, even if he ran into his team. Trying to look as casual as possible, he dialed and sent through his IDC. Stepping through the gate, he had to blink away the glare of how bright the room was compared to where he'd just come from. Though it was well into the evening hours on the planet he'd left behind, it was actually only late afternoon on Atlantis.

It felt like he'd been gone for days.

Shaking off the contrast of time, Major Lorne turned toward the guard stationed at the corridor that lead to the infirmary. Stumbling slightly, he frowned darkly trying to cover it before realizing it was the perfect cover and excuse at the same time. He unclipped his P90 and held it out toward the guard.

"Captain, can you return this to the armory for me? I'm needing to see Doctor Beckett for a twisted ankle."

"Certainly, Major. Would you like me to take your tac vest, sir?"

Suddenly the flaw in his plan became crystal clear. The tac vest being cinched tighter, holding his jacket to his back and to slow the bleeding as well as keep the blood invisible, was probably the only thing keeping him from being carried out of there. If anyone caught sight of it, they'd be on the radio faster than he could order them to stand down. With a mental groan, Lorne tried to shake off these hazy, panicked thoughts. He knew he must look a hell of a sight standing there going from confused to concerned and then finally settling on what he was certain was a sickeningly fake smile all before replying.

"No thanks, Captain. I'll drop it off on my way to my quarters," he heard himself say, struggling to keep the room at the right angle in his vision.

The dubious look the Captain was giving him pretty much told him what he needed to know. He looked like shit, and he wasn't fooling anybody. Time to hurry up and get to the infirmary. Pretending to favor his left ankle, he ignored the rest of those present in the room. That much taken care of, at least now he didn't have to worry about stumbling slightly, so long as he kept his focus enough to make it to the infirmary while still upright. Turning his mind to the next task, he turned on his mic, "Major Lorne for Colonel Sheppard."

"Sheppard here. Go ahead Major."

"Sir, I've returned from M seven eight seven two zero. I'm on my way to the infirmary for a post off-world check, but I need to speak with you. Priority two."

"Understood, Major. On my way. Sheppard out."

Glad he still had the mental capacity despite his haziness to remember to code his message to Sheppard properly, Lorne continued his trek toward the infirmary that now felt miles away. As expected, he encountered the usual handful of evening injuries that occurred as people got off from their shifts and indulged in their recreational activities. Unfortunately, though, Beckett was currently tied up with Ronon and wouldn't be able to see to him just yet. Perching on the edge of a nearby chair along the wall near the door, Lorne opted to wait it out.

~o~o~o~

Concerned, by the Major's message, but not overly so, Sheppard had left his office. He already knew from the rest of his team that Lorne had had to smooth over an issue involving a religious offense. But they had also told him that things were otherwise fine. A faux pas being a norm rather than an exception in their line of work, he didn't think anything of it. Making his way to the infirmary, though, he began to rethink the situation.

Scanning the present gurneys in the main area of the infirmary, he frowned wondering where Lorne might have gone.

"Over here, sir," he heard Lorne call.

Turning, Sheppard caught sight of the man sitting in one of the chairs and nearly demanded why he wasn't on a gurney. Lorne was pale and downright haggard looking. Before he could comment, though, Beckett had arrived.

"Major, what happened to you?"

Heaving a sigh, Lorne pushed himself up out of the chair he'd been perched on. Of course his body would choose then to betray him. Feeling the darkness creeping around his vision, he swayed slightly. Sheppard and Beckett both reached out reflexively to catch him. Biting back a hiss of pain he muttered an apology, before blinking several times and shaking his head. Turning his attention back to Beckett, he said, "Doc, we're going to need a private room for this. Colonel, you better come with."

"Certainly, Major," Beckett said, frowning but knowing he wasn't going to get anything out of the man until they were behind closed doors.

The moment the doors were closed, both men pounced.

"Sit down, Major," Sheppard ordered before Beckett even had a chance. "What the hell happened?"

"I know you got the reports from Lieutenants Keane, Shingleton, and Cayton. But it wasn't smoothed over quite as well as I would have liked, sir," Lorne started, unzipping his tac vest. "Doc, I hope you got some time. Cause you're not going to like this."

"What did you do, Major?" Sheppard demanded, the accusation clear.

"Avoided unnecessary violence and bloodshed, and kept a valuable trading partner, Colonel," Lorne finally snapped. "Hold on a second, Doc." Heaving a sigh, he turned his undivided attention on Sheppard. "Shingleton and Keane apparently offended their god, Que'lake, by laughing within his temple. Sir, this offense carries an immediate sentence of either execution or nineteen lashings. We were surrounded by civilians, and I had all of maybe a minute to figure something out. There was no warning, sir."

"I get that. And I think I know where this is going, and I'm not liking it, Major."

"It's already done, sir. You don't have to like it, but you do need to know about it," Lorne replied tiredly. "Look, when you and Doctor Weir send in a team and a negotiator to work out trade agreements, just ensure no one goes near the temple in the center of town. You can't miss it, sir. For the rest of it, that's what diplomats and negotiators are trained to find out. We were not given any warning. They will be. Oh, and they execute anyone approaching their city in the dark."

"Are you saying you were whipped, Major?" Beckett asked incredulously, keeping up with the conversation.

"Yeah, Doc."

"Thirty-eight times, if I'm not mistaken," Sheppard growled, his arms crossed to keep his fists from clenching.

"Yes, sir. Some kind of ceremony," he replied, finally shrugging out of the tac vest so they could see the solid brown back of his jacket as the blood had soaked through and begun to dry.

"My God," Beckett said, wide eyed with horror.

Sheppard, having come around behind Lorne to watch as Beckett gently began to remove the jacket, said, "I assume you didn't want your team to know; since you sent them back Code Zero."

"Yes…sir," he said, having to stop to grunt in pain as the jacket separated from the shirt that was plastered to his back.

"Why?"

"What would you have done, sir? As I said, I didn't have much time. And coming out guns blazing wasn't an option. Even if I'd sent word back, there was no chance of getting Doctor Weir or someone else in there to negotiate anything else in time. The punishment has to be completed before dark or it's execution automatically. And it was well after dark by the time I got back here.

"As for Shingleton and Keane, what purpose does it serve, sir? They didn't know that laughing within the temple grounds was even an offense. Let alone what kind of punishment it would incur."

Lorne paused as Beckett finished cutting the sleeves to the neck and began to gently pull at the shirt to cut it up the back. Beckett's silence alone spoke volumes about how incensed he was by this. Trying not to flinch, Lorne clenched his teeth against several colorful curses as Beckett very carefully and gently began to peel the shirt away from the seeping wounds that still bled. Catching sight of the devastation that had once been the Major's back, even Sheppard struggled to keep his composure. Finally Beckett had the shirt removed, causing Lorne to sigh in relief.

"In any case, sir. You'll have my full report tomorrow. And, it would be greatly appreciated if you could run interference with my team, at least for today. I specifically requested Carson because I knew I could trust him not to talk."

"Will do, Major."

"Thank you, sir."

The exhaustion evident in the man's voice, Sheppard just shook his head. While the whole thing pissed him off, he couldn't deny he'd have done the same under the circumstances. Picking up the tac vest in the hopes of using it as something of a cover for his exit from the infirmary, he was once again very thankful that the black padding didn't show the blood he knew coated the inside. Hefting the vest in one hand, he considered his XO. Still standing behind him, he couldn't even imagine what it had been like, even seeing the after effects.

"You did right, Evan. I would have done the same."

"I know."

Turning to Beckett he said, "Carson, I'm going to need copies of the pictures from before and after. By the looks of it, the whip was metal tipped, right?"

"That would be my guess based on the damage I see. He's going to need several sutures for some of them."

"I'll swing by your office for the copies later, then. Week and a half, two weeks, recovery?"

"Aye, sounds about right."

"Thanks, Doc. Get some rest, Major. I'll update you later."

"Thank you, sir."